


A Lonely Night in Nassau

by Silverblind



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/Silverblind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would have been quite the lonely night in Nassau had she not come along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lonely Night in Nassau

The tavern was empty. Or, at least, as empty as a tavern in Nassau could get. Drunkards lay sprawled here and there, snoring their drinks away peacefully while those who could still sit somewhat upright spoke drunkenly amongst themselves. The bartender, who was notorious for not being able to resist his own poisons, had long since fallen asleep behind his bar, leaving two waitresses in charge. While one was giggling on a large man's lap, half-heartedly slapping his hands away when they reached for more intimate places, the other was darting left and right, trying her best to keep the clients' mugs filled but still thoroughly ignoring the man sitting alone in a corner, who had unsuccessfully been trying to wave her over for the better part of ten minutes.

Edward Kenway grumbled to himself as he lurched to his feet, intent on taking the refilling of his drink into his own hands, when a shadow fell over him. He blinked and squinted, trying to make out the shadow's face through the dimness of the tavern and his own drunken haze.

The flash of red and black he saw, along with the gleaming dark eyes of a friend he had not thought to see made the pirate fall back into his seat, the empty mug slammed back down upon the table and promptly forgotten. A chuckle escaped him as the shadow sat across from him.

"Kidd!" he said, although the name that had been on his lips was a secret that could not be uttered here. He was still not drunk enough that he had forgotten her threat. "Jesus, mate, you gave me a fright. I thought you'd be gone for three months."

"That was the plan," she answered, "but there were… changes."

She left it at that, and said nothing more. He knew she did not like him prying into her business, but that she would eventually come around.

He watched her in the dim light of the candles that burned around the room, finding her mouth set into a hard line that told him there was more to the story than a failed plunder. Assassins' affairs, perhaps.

Her moody silence was finally too much to bear, and he slapped a few reales down onto the table. The waitress suddenly seemed to finally notice him, and she prowled closer as Edward stood to leave, extending a hand to the young captain before him.

"What do you say we get out of here, mate?" he asked as she lifted her eyes from the tabletop to look at him. "Then maybe you'll tell me what's troubling you."

She did not budge, so he shrugged and marched out of the tavern by himself. The cool air of the night sobered him some as the smells of the city assaulted him, the familiar stench of fish, smoke and the ever-present tinge of shit making him grin as he stumbled forward. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that the girl hadn't refilled his drink after all. He did not want to be drunker than he already was.

"I heard a target talk about you, Edward," Kidd's voice said behind him.

He turned to face her and there she was, an unusual frown marring her feature and her arms folded across her chest.

"Did you?" he answered, turning away and taking a few steps down the street. At this late hour, even the most hardened of pirates had retreated to their homes for a few hours of peaceful sleep, sleep that they could not so easily catch when they were at sea. Remaining in the streets were the usual beggars and drunkards. "And what did he say about me?"

"He was not praising the way you've been interfering with their plans, if you want to know," she replied, falling in step next to him. The furrow of her brows could almost be heard in her voice. "Nor the way you plunder every English ship you happen to pass, or the size of your cock."

The sound of his laughter rang out in the for once nearly-silent streets of Nassau. A cry of protest or two were heard from open windows at the raucous noise before the calm of the night settled once more over the town.

"Do reassure me; they  _were_  praising me, at least?" he said, turning to her with a grin. Her grim face did not make his grin falter.

"This is serious, Edward!" she hissed, pushing him into a nearby alley. His back roughly met a wooden fence, and the back of his head made a rather harsh noise as it hit the same surface. He groaned. "Your face is becoming known. They've put a bounty on your head. They won't stop until they have you. You're in danger!"

She had stepped closer in her outburst. Strands of her hair had fallen from the red scarf she wore to keep them from doing exactly that. Her eyes shone in the night's gloom, and he could smell her: a peculiar scent of leather and salt and wood almost as familiar to him as the smell of Nassau.

"Are you worried about them?" he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. She was so close, and the silence of the night so heavy, that it would have felt almost inappropriate to speak any louder. "Are you worried about… me?"

He had expected her to throw a punch and push away, denying the fact vehemently. If had she done so, then he would have known how to react. He would have grinned and laughed and they would have gone on as before. Nothing would have changed.

But she didn't.

She stayed where she was, close, so close their bodies were almost touching, and she nodded. Hesitantly, at first, as if she herself had just realized it, and then with more confidence.

"Of course I'm worried," she answered, tearing the scarf from her hair with an exasperated sigh. As she shook her hair free of their confines, he felt something stir inside of him. "You're my friend, aren't you? I told you so, in Kingston. I tell my secrets only to my friends, and I  _worry_ about my friends."

There was silence between them for a moment before he spoke.

"You shouldn't worry," he said. "I'll be perfectly fine. I always am. We'll hunt them down, and finish this together… Mary."

She stood so close to him that he could feel a shiver run through her entire body as he pronounced her name. He reached out, his hand running through her hair almost on its own accord. His other hand reached for her waist, found it, and brought her to him; she did not resist, looking up at him with surprise but also – expectation? He could not say, but could also not resist once more tasting her name on his lips.

"Mary…"

Another shiver, this time coupled with an almost inaudible sigh. She did not blush, instead staring boldly into his eyes as she brought her hands up to tangle in his hair before planting on his lips a fiery kiss.

He gripped her tighter at the waist as his other hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head. He opened his mouth to her, feeling her hands on his shoulders. She, at first, seemed taken aback by his actions, almost as if she had not expected him to respond; but her body was soon greedily pressing against his, and it was too much and not enough at the same time. He wanted to pull away, if even for a second, so that he could assess the situation, but could not bring himself to do so as her whole being engulfed him, taking control of him. Her firm, small body fit perfectly with his as she pushed him against the fence.

It was heaven.

Caroline's name did not so much as cross his mind as he fought with Kidd for dominance. He grinned against her lips, and felt her hesitate.

"Mary."

There it was again. The shudder. The sigh. The slight lowering of her unbreakable defense. Just enough to allow him to push her against the wall of a nearby house, reversing their positions. He grinned wider, and she felt it. She bit his lip as retribution and Edward chuckled, the laugh quickly turning into a low growl as her thigh deliberately brushed against his hardening manhood, his breeches growing tighter by the second.

She attacked his lips again and again, kissing and biting and taking and  _taking_ , relentlessly, urgently, barely allowing him time to breathe or think. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath as his mouth left hers to slowly kiss first a scarred brow, then a cheek and then her chin. Her hair tumbled down to her shoulders in tangled waves of ebony. Her redingote soon fell open beneath Edward's fingers, revealing the light linen shirt underneath. He pressed kisses to every inch of skin he discovered as he pushed the shirt away to reveal her breasts, small but firm mounds that fit perfectly into his hands. His fingers snaked down her stomach before they settled between her legs, and she moaned.

It was heaven.

He had always prided himself in his capacities as a lover. At times he could be gentle and slow, or wild and dominant. It was the lady's choice.

Yet now with Mary he felt almost a fumbling teenager again, with her mumbling sweet nothings in his ear as she took him inside her with barely a gasp. He could hardly, at first, contain his primal urge of burying himself as deep inside her a he could, until they felt like they were one and that nothing could pry them apart again. The legs locked around his waist urged him toward this need, but he refrained, and waited.

No, Edward Kenway did not allow himself to give in to his desires until the first torturous, delicious moan had been elicited from her lips. His rhythm, which had been slow, then picked up pace, until he was slamming into her again and again, her moans of pleasure a sweet song meant for his ears only. He devoured her lips, wanting to taste her fevered sounds of ecstasy, the cold air of the night not enough to cool their heated skins as they silenced each other as best they could. He had buried his head in the crook of her neck, and she had let her head fall back, her mouth open but not a sound escaping her throat anymore, her eyes wide, staring at the stars but unseeing. Finally she felt him shudder below her, his harsh breath now a ragged growl, and she moaned along with him in their release.

It was heaven.

It did not take long to conceal all trace of what had just transpired between them. A shirt was tugged back into place, breeches were laced back up and a redingote snapped shut.

The sun was rising over Nassau, and everything had changed.


End file.
